


Drowning Lessons

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Blackrom, M/M, No one gets hurt too bad, Quadrant Vacillation, Scientific terms for ocean layers, The start of pity, kismesisitude, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your name is Eridan Ampora, and you are giving your kismesis a lesson in the art of drowning."</p><p>(Alternatively, Eridan and Sollux spend quality time fighting before Eridan brings the yellow-blood back to his ocean hive to sleep off the water-logged black affections for awhile.)</p><p>(Alternatively-alternatively, Eridan drags Sollux through the ocean than takes care of him in a manner that's a little too close to pity for his comfort.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like ten minutes, it was inspired by the song of the same title.

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and you are giving your kismesis a lesson in the art of drowning. You move through the water like an arrow shot from the finest of bows, and it’s nothing to you to drag what’s practically a carcass behind you.

 

At your best, you can move nearly as fast as some of the Condesce’s best swimmers, and you’ll be damned if Captor is going to slow you down. You lost your cape and scarf in the fight on the beach, but you didn’t mind at all. It was easier to fist your claws in Captor’s should and haul him down into the depths.

 

He was fighting back for the first hundred or so feet down, but by now, he’s gone limp, only meekly pulling against you. The water’s dark here, but you’ve not even left the epipelagic levels, and your gills are hardly being impeded by the pressure of the water.

 

You aren’t planning on killing him, that wouldn’t be worth anything to you. You’d rather prefer his bulges able to react to you, after all. So you glide for a moment, then press up on his back and begin working back to the surface. You’re careful to go slowly, not wanting to inflict the bends upon your already suffering kismesis.

 

When you break the surface, you hold him to you and punch him square in the stomach. He bobs in the water as he chokes and coughs, thrashing around and slipping under due to his struggling. You reach down and haul him back up to you, and eventually, he stops and merely clings to you.

 

You keep him afloat easily, arms encircling him as he grasps the back of your shirt with his arms around your neck, feebly kicking his legs. “ED,” He’s finally able to gasp, and you smile sharkishly as you guide him up to straddle your stomach.

 

He does so, leaning down and resting his face on your chest as you tread water, your swim bladders keeping you floating there. “ED.” He repeats, his voice hoarse from vomiting up all the seawater that had flooded his lungs.

 

You kick lazily and glide along in the general direction of your hive. He holds onto you shakily, and you hum softly as he burrows into your chest. When you’re nearly there, he looks up through finally clear, bicolored eyes. “I thought you were going to kill me.” He admits softly, looking almost ashamed of the thought.

 

“W-Why w-would I w-waste my time killin’ you w-when I w-was just teachin’ you a lesson?” You quip gently, running aground on your back in the shallow water outside your hive.

 

He steps off of you and sinks into the water on his knees, and you’re quick to embrace him and keep him steady. “Oh. I mean, I knew that, but it wa’th all th’ort’th of terrifying.” He mumbles as you lift his scrawny body bridal style in your arms.

 

“I w-wouln’t hav-ve done it if you hadn’t ‘a knocked us out into the w-water.” You say chastisingly, opening the door with your elbow and walking in.

 

You set him on your concupiscent couch and strip him of his water-laden clothes, and then you slip him into a spare shirt you have lying around. _He looks good in your colors_ , you muse as he drifts off, exhausted from the struggle of almost being drowned.

  
You change your clothes and join him in a casual embrace, petting his hair as you drift off as well. You smirk, too tired to care that you’re probably going to wake up with his psionics around your throat. 


End file.
